Deep Breathing For a Pounding Heart
by Jaredpadaleckey
Summary: Collection of stories in which Sam has panic attacks. Hurt/Anxiety Sam. Protective!Dean obviously.


**I haven't posted a story in AGES! I've had lots of school and on top of that have recently been diagnosed with Anxiety and Panic Disorder.**

**So not fun. **

**I have been itching to write an Anxiety! Sam since I started having panic attacks. So here is the first story in my collection! And yes, protective big brother Dean is a must!**

**The stories will start out with young Sam, and gradually get older and older. So they're in chronological order.**

**Sam's age in this story- 12.**

**Dean's age in this story- 15.**

"Sam!" came the loud, gruff voice of John Winchester, followed by the sleepy whine from his youngest son.

"Get up for school! You're gonna be late, for God's sake!" the father huffed before storming out of the motel room door without even saying goodbye. The absence of Dean probably meant that the eldest son was getting a lift from one of his friends.

Reluctantly rolling out of the rough motel bed, Sam grunted as he hit the hard, wooden floor. He considered lying there for a few more minutes, but decided against it when he inspected his watch.

"Crap!" he muttered to himself upon seeing the time. He had ten minutes until school began and it took him nine minutes to get there. That left him with one minute to get ready.

He sighed, and grudgingly stood up, taking a few seconds to regain his balance.

"I am so screwed…" he repeated to himself over and over again while stripping out of his faded clothes from the day before and trying to get into his school uniform as quick as possible. He used his fingers as a poor substitute for a comb and raked them through his greasy, tangled hair.

But in his feeble effort to neaten his hair, he had managed to get his fingers stuck. Frustrated, he yanked his fingers away from his hair, disappointed and panicky when all he got in return for his efforts was pain in his scalp.

He gasped in breaths, his heart pounding in his chest. He had seven minutes until school began, he was going to be late. Panic induced images flashed through his mind: not being allowed into school for being late, missing an important lesson, being tested on the missed lesson in a test, failing the test, not being able to go to a decent college…

He knew later on that he was being stupid and was overreacting, but at the time it seemed like his whole dream future was falling apart. His breathing got quicker and quicker and his hands started to tremble. He slid down the wall, gasping harshly.

His confused brain kept asking questions like: 'what's happening?', 'what if this happens again?', 'am I dying?' and 'is this a heart attack?'

He drew in deep, shuddering breaths and shut his eyes. His whole body was trembling and he was sure that the world was ending.

His heart seemed to have lodged itself up his throat, or so he thought by the constant pounding interrupting his shaky breaths. He felt sick because of the inability to breathe properly, the panic and feeling of impending death.

Dean was sitting in math class, listening to the never-ending drone of his teacher's voice. She was saying something about fractions, much to the class's barely concealed dismay. Drifting off ever so slightly, Dean allowed his eyes droop to half-mast.

He came back on full alert when there was a knock on the classroom door, followed by the creak of said door opening. He gazed out of unfocused eyes as a stout teacher stood in the doorway.

Dean recognised her say something about absence, a child called Sam Winchester. He jumped awake, and listened closely.

"-Sam hasn't attended class and we haven't received an absence call from his parents or carer. Would Dean happen to know anything about Sam's absence?"

Dean squinted, confused. Sam wasn't ill in the morning, and if he was, John would have collected Dean from school to look after Sam. And skiving was out of the question- Sam wanted to go to a college and was very serious about working.

"Um- yes Miss, he was. Sorry." Dean lied. The teacher scowled at him before turning away to leave.

"Make sure we are aware of his absence beforehand next time, please!" she scolded before leaving the room.

Just in the nick of time, a shrill bell sounded loudly, indicating that it was time to make the transition from one class to the other.

"More like the transition from this boring hellhole to my little brother," Dean huffed to himself as he gathered his things and left the classroom.

Sam was dying- he was sure of it. Each breath came harder and harder to draw in, with more terrifying images of him being denied for college and having to hunt with his older brother and father for the rest of his life. He whimpered between breaths, beads of sweat making their way down his face and back with the mere effort of breathing.

His vision became blurry and he felt as if he wasn't quite _there. _He felt uncoordinated, shaky, confused and downright terrified. He had been sitting against the tiled wall for at least twenty minutes now, and each harsh breath was a tremendous effort. He kept repeating _Dean, Dean, Dean _in his head but got even more panicked when he realised that Dean was still in school.

Sam was alone, shaky and sweaty, hyperventilating and confused. Before he could stop them, tears were rolling down his cheeks and he didn't have the energy to wipe them away.

But they were wiped away, somehow. Sam vaguely wondered if he was having hallucinations.

He felt himself be wrapped up in familiar arms- _Dean's arms. _He tightly held onto them as his breaths got shorter and more difficult to draw in.

_So what, _he heard a voice in his head say, _you're hallucinating now? Definitely dying. _

Sam whimpered and sobbed harder, until he felt a hand stroke his hair. Only Dean did that.

"Ssh, Sammy. Calm down, everything's okay. I'm here now." A quiet voice whispered.

_Dean's voice. _

Sam grunted with relief and melted into his big brother's arms. He allowed himself to be gently rocked back and forth, his breaths slowly getting easier and easier to draw in.

"'Atta boy, Sammy!" came the affectionate voice of Dean, "just a little more to go, that's it."

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, Dean cradling Sam and whispering words of encouragement into his hair.

"You alright now?" Dean asked eventually, pulling away from the embrace to inspect Sam, who looked terrible. His pale face glistened with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. His puffy red eyes were unfocused, looking at Dean for a few seconds before drifting off to another part of the room.

"What… was that" he whispered, allowing himself to be cradled in Dean's arms again. Stroking Sam's hair, the eldest brother sighed and shook his head.

"Panic attack maybe? Don't worry about it Sammy. It was probably nothin'." Dean said, gently.

Sam nodded, still doubtful.

John threw down his shovel and sighed, glancing up at the burning corpse. Glad that the wor was done, he wiped a sweaty hand over his equally sweaty face, and turned his back to the fire. A loud ringing came from his pocket before he started to walk away.

He flipped open the phone before pressing it to his ear.

"'Ello?" he grunted into the phone.

"Hello, is this Mr Oakes?" a shrill voice on the other end of the line asked.

Oakes… that was the name they used for Sam and Dean's school. Why was he getting a call from them?

"Um, yes. Is anything wrong?" he asked, confused

"This is the school that both of your children attend. Although they didn't today. They are both absent, is there a reason why?"

John squinted, puzzled. Both of his boys had attended school, he was sure of it. Well, Dean had skived a few times, but Sam? He would never skip school.

"Yes, ma'am. Sam and Dean are home sick with a bad case of…" John considered which illness he would use, "tonsillitis."

There was a pause. "Tonsillitis?" the woman on the phone answered eventually.

"Yes, they caught it from a friend. Sorry, I would have called sooner but I was… busy." He glanced over his shoulder at the burning corpse.

"Ah. Okay sir. We wish them a speedy recovery." She asked, somewhat doubtfully. John ignored the sceptical tone in her voice and hung up.

"What have you boys done now?" he said to himself, walking back to the Impala.

Dean had just tucked an exhausted Sam into bed when the door opened. He reached for the gun before recognising the figure entering the room, his father.

"Dean? What's going on?" John inquired.

Dean glanced at Sam to confirm he was asleep before walking towards his dad.

"I think Sam had a panic attack." Dean whispered, trying not to wake Sam. Puzzlement flashed upon John's face.

"What? How? Why?" he asked. "Okay, just start from the beginning, son."

Dean sighed. "I was at school, then a teacher came in and asked me why Sam was absent. I was confused, because you would have told me if Sam was ill." At this point, John nodded in agreement.

Dean continued. "So I came home, and I don't know why, but he was just sitting on the floor breathing really hard and shaking. It took me ages to calm him down."

John glanced at Sam, processing the information he had just been given. Sam looked like he had gone through hell.

"We'll see if it happens again, and if it does we'll get it checked out." He answered eventually. "Maybe it's nothing."

**Soo, obviously it isn't just nothing as Dean and John had just said. *malicious laughter***

**Reviews, faves and follows are appreciated. I'm sure the next one will be up soon!**

**Feel free to PM me any stories you may have of panic/anxiety attacks! I'm curious!**


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